


Having a tough morning

by Graphic_Content



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Assault, Gen, Hitchhiking, One Shot, Protective Siblings, Swearing, sis!fic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graphic_Content/pseuds/Graphic_Content
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of their life if they had a sister.</p><p>-----------------------------</p><p>  <i>“Don’t be such a fucking princess”.  She knew he only said that to piss her off and he wouldn’t really let her hitchhike like this, but she was pissed off too.  And two pissed off Winchesters were never an intelligent combination.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Having a tough morning

She hit the steering wheel with the side of her palm as hard as she could and swore under her breath. Of course this had to happen to her. She reached for her phone on the passenger seat and speed dialled one.

“What?” The attitude he was sporting did not help her already foul mood.

“Dean, your piece of shit car has crapped out on me” and she added that extra little bit of venom when she mentioned the car just for him.

“What the hell did you do to her?” he said a little louder.

“I didn’t do shit, it died on me and now I’m stuck so find a car and come get me”.

“Nope, you’ll have to find your own way back”. Was he fucking kidding? Her blood was boiling to the point where she could barely feel the cold now.

“Really Dean, you’re going to make your little sister hitchhike in bumfuck nowhere with bumfuck towns people, wearing my pyjamas?” and really it was her own fault for going on a breakfast run wearing a tight white singlet with no bra and short shorts that resembled underwear, but whatever, that wasn’t the point.

“Don’t be such a fucking princess”. She knew he only said that to piss her off and he wouldn’t really let her hitchhike like this, but she was pissed off too. And two pissed off Winchesters were never an intelligent combination.

“Fine Dean” she said calmly and hung up the phone.

Great. She was standing on the side of a road, wearing something less than ideal, and the cold was really setting into her bones now. Eventually a burgundy pickup truck pulled over and the guy, who really did look like he belonged in bumfuck nowhere, wound down the window.

“Hey there little lady, need help with your car?” her skin crawled when he spoke.

“No, I need a lift”.

“I can take a look at the car for you, get you back on the road” he said eyeing the car like it was a thing of beauty. And she knew it was, but she never admitted it to Dean.

“No, I said I need a lift. Can you give me one or not?” just to spite Dean she wanted to leave his precious car on the side of the road for him to go and find later. But now this guy’s eyes left the car and landed on her. She could see him trailing down her body and smirking. Every instinct told her not to get in, but she was pissed and had something to prove to Dean.

“Of course. Hop in”.  
 ****

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Dean” Sam said when he entered the motel room after his jog. Before he’d even really got his body through the door, though, Dean was right up in his face.

“Sarah’s not answering her phone, dude” and Sam could see a mixture of emotions in his face, anger and fear being the most prominent.

“She’s not back from getting breakfast yet?” and while Sam was worried, he knew Sarah could take care of her own, and she hadn’t been gone that long.

“Yeah the car broke down somewhere and I kind of told her to find her own way back. But now she’s not answering Sam, and you know how fucking crazy towns people can be”.

“Why did you tell her to find her own way back?” that really wasn’t like Dean. Dean groaned into his palm as he sat on the edge of one of the queen sized beds.

“She was pissing me off Sam, and I didn’t really mean it, but she hung up and won’t answer her damn phone”. Sam could hear the self-hatred in his voice. It was always really there, but Dean was good at hiding it most times. Or maybe Sam had just stopped listening for it.

“Calm down. I’ll give her a try”.  
 ****

\---------------------------------------------------------

The heater was broken in his car, of fucking course, so she sat huddled on the passenger side hugging her own body for warmth. He didn’t offer her one of his jackets either, not that she would have accepted, but it’s the fucking principle of it.

Her phone vibrated again in her lap, but this time it was Sam. She was significantly less pissed off at Dean now that she had calmed down, but that didn’t stop her from not answering her phone. He can sit and stew for ten fucking minutes. But when Sam called she knew she really had to answer now.

“Sam” she said when she flipped her phone open.

“Hey Sarah, are you alright? Where are you?” she could hear a twinge of worry in his voice but nothing dramatic.

“I’m on my way back to the motel, I shouldn’t be long” and when she looked out the window she realised she didn’t really know where they were or if they were going the right way. She just kind of hoped he knew where he was going. Something like worry crept up in her stomach now. And fucking hell, of course she left the entire arsenal of weapons in the trunk and didn’t even grab a fucking knife. She mentally cursed herself and sunk lower in her seat, glancing up at the hillbilly driving.

“How long till we’re at the motel?” she asked the driver, who didn’t look over to her.

“About 15” he replied, and she knew at the speed he was travelling that was wrong because she drove less than ten minutes away from the motel. She groaned into the phone.

“What’s wrong Sarah?” Sam said, and she knew there really wasn’t much they could do if she told them she was in trouble, because she didn’t know the license plate or even this guy’s name and she didn’t know where they were. And if she worried Sam and Dean, they would bring hell down on this town.

“Bumfuck towns people, that’s what’s wrong. I’ll call you back soon” and she hung up the phone before he could reply.

“Could you pull over please? I’d like to get out now”. This time he looked down at her.

“Sure”. The way he said it sent a shiver up her spine. Just great, she ended up in a car with a fucking psycho. Or maybe worse. She didn’t have any holy water on her. She had nothing on her. For all she knew she’d been riding along with a demon. Her brothers were going to _murder_ her.

He pulled off the quiet road and into a parking lot of an abandoned factory. She shook her head at the stupid situation she found herself in and sat back up in her seat, taking her seat belt off and going for the door handle. And how cliché of him to lock the doors as she grasped the handle.

She groaned again and turned around to face him. He had a hungry look in his eyes, but at least they weren’t black.

“I just have one question,” she said as he edged closer to her, his hands mounting the centre console, “I didn’t bring any holy water with me, so save me the surprise, are you a demon?” She went with a direct approach, because she was fairly certain she would be able to tell if it was a human that got asked that question.

His brows furrowed slightly and then he chuckled and said “guess you’re gonna find out” and she knew he wasn’t a demon, because at this point a demon would have revealed himself. Or at the very least not acted confused when she asked the question. He obviously replied like she had meant was he a bad person or something.

“Thank god” she whispered under her breath, and a confused look graced his ugly features once again, before he moved a little faster over to her seat.

She turned her body so that her back was resting against the door and kicked one bare foot out that connected with his face. Even though she got a lot of power under the kick, the cold had stiffened her muscles a bit and it didn’t knock him out. She went for a kick again when one hand grabbed her ankle and the other reached forward and grabbed her hip and yanked her forward. The middle of her back connected sharply with the handbrake that was sticking up and out and she cried out in pain.

“You fucking piece of fucking SHIT” she yelled at him, and he was so taken aback he loosened his grip on her. The thought was funny, that his automatic response to causing someone pain was to let go. He realised his mistake almost instantly, though, and as he went to tighten his grip, she kicked out with her right foot and it collided with his face once again. His body slumped to the side opposite his door, leaning into the centre of the car. She scooted back so she was sitting back in the passenger seat.

Blood droplets had sprayed along her lower leg. She rested her head back on the door for just a moment, feeling the throbbing pain of her back. She wasn’t quiet as cold anymore.

She reached over the lifeless body that had blood dripping down the face and unlocked the doors of the car. The pain in her back was ridiculous but she ignored it. She could worry about it later. She walked around to the driver’s side door and opened it. This guy was pretty big, like Sam big, and when she tried to pull on his dead weight to get him out of the car, her back screamed in agony.

“Fuck” she hissed, doubled over and reached for her back. Obviously she wasn’t going to be able to take the car. After a minute of cursing into the asphalt, she crawled over and untied his boots, because if she was walking then she wasn’t doing it barefoot.

She stood up gingerly once she had the boots off and slipped her size nine feet into the size 13 shoe. She unlocked the trunk and searched for any sort of shirt she could wear as protection against the wind. She found a dirty looking button-up and held it in her hand, debating just how desperate she was to put it on.

Pretty desperate, she decided. Because she didn’t know how long she’d be walking for until she could find some sort of marker to describe to her brothers to pick her up. So she reluctantly put it on, looking up at the heavens and making a disgusted noise in her throat.

Turned out she didn’t have to walk for long, less than five minutes she figured, before she was walking down a street with actual people. Well, one or two people, and there were a few shops. Nothing was open, because it wasn’t even 9am yet. She pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket and was about to dial when she saw a red and yellow vertical sign attached to a brick wall a couple of buildings down. It read “24/7 bar”. She pocketed her phone and walked briskly in the cold air towards the establishment.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door and was greeted with a bar that was completely empty. A bell chimed above her and she took a few steps in, trying to get out of the cold.

She walked towards the wooden counter on the right side wall. The other side of the room had wooden tables and chairs, and down the back was a pool table. She made a mental note to tell Dean about the pool table, he mentioned something last night about needing to hustle. She sat on a stool at the bar and eyed the liquors.

20 seconds passed when a middle aged man walked through the door that led to the back. He was carrying a case of beer and stopped when he saw Sarah. She supposed seeing a young, dishevelled girl before 9am in his bar was unusual. He didn’t say anything about it though.

“What can I do you for?” he asked as he put down the beer and headed to where she was sitting.

“A double whiskey and a beer”. He raised his eyebrows a little before turning around and grabbing a half empty bottle of whiskey and pouring some into a glass. He placed the glass in front of her and turned to grab a beer. When he turned back around the whiskey was gone.

“Another double, thanks” and she took the beer off of him.

He still didn’t say anything as he poured her another drink.

“Hey you wouldn’t happen to have any ice I could use? I hurt my back”. The throbbing had become extremely distracting; she could feel it in her ears and on her tongue and her head pounded. He eyed her for a moment before he retreated out the back again.

When he remerged, he had (what she hoped was) a clean tea-towel and after shovelling some ice into it near the sink, he handed it over to her.

“Thanks” she said as she hesitantly placed it on her back. Just a light touch felt like a stab. Oh yeah, she was going to get a lot of shit for this from Sam and Dean. She groaned into her beer with her eyes closed.

“Difficult morning?” the bartender asked.

She made an ‘mmm’ confirmation noise.

“Not the worst in a while, though” she supplemented. And it was true. They were still recovering from a difficult hunt further up north, and waking up cramped in the backseat of a car or to a stiff-as-fuck neck from sleeping in the front was difficult enough. Add in some nights where she would wake up to Dean stumbling home drunk, to the nightmares all three of them would periodically have, or the nights where she just didn’t sleep at all and yeah, this wasn’t such a terrible morning.

She looked up from taking a swig of her beer to the guy ogling her chest, where her nipples were standing to full attention from the cold.

“If you could kindly stop staring; I’ve had my fill of perverts for the day, thanks” and he looked up slowly, like he was doing her a real favour here. He turned and started putting the beer away. She decided now was a good time for her to call her idiot brothers back.  
 ****

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Will you calm down, Dean?” Sam said to his older brother, who was walking back and forth in the room like he was performing an army drill.

“Why hasn’t she called back yet? This is ridiculous Sam, what’s wrong with her?” Sam was worried too, but Dean looked like he was ready to break down the door and into the first car he saw, and drive around the streets of this town screaming Sarah’s name out the window.

“It’s only been ten minutes, Dean, she’s going to call”. It had been 13 minutes and 46 seconds, actually, but he wasn’t going to reveal just how worried he was to Dean.

Sam’s phone rang after Dean kicked a trashcan across the room.

“Hello? Sarah?” He said it in such a way Dean had to know how worried he was now.

“Hey Sam, can you come pick me up?” she sounded exhausted but otherwise alright, and Sam visibly relaxed. Dean on the other hand lurched forward and tried to grab the phone off Sam. When Sam didn’t give it up, instead pushing Dean back with his giant hands, Dean improvised.

“Sarah are you alright?” he yelled at the direction of the phone, and Sam shot him a decent bitch face.

“Tell Dean I’m fine. I’m at a bar, err, hang on”, Sam could hear her talk to someone around her, “called ‘Joe’s Bar’ on First Street”.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon, don’t move”. He hung up the phone and filled Dean in.

“We need a car” Sam said to Dean.

“Yeah, I have an idea” Dean said as he opened the door and walked towards the front office.

$100 was all it took to borrow the manager’s car for 20 minutes. That and leaving a credit card there just in case they never came back. By the looks of the car it was worth less than $100 anyway so a bit of a bargain if you asked them.  
 ****

\---------------------------------------------------------

Sarah was just about finished her second beer when the door to the bar was wrenched opened and two large men walked in. She quickly removed the ice from her back and dropped it on the counter behind the bar. When they saw her, which was almost instantly, they came barrelling forward.

“Sarah” they both said, not really in unison.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine” she waved them off and finished her beer. Dean got out his wallet and slammed a $50 on the counter before returning his attention to Sarah. She looked at the bartender who raised his eyebrows and took the $50, then slunk away to the back like he didn’t want to be involved.

“Whose clothes and shoes are you wearing?” Sam asked.

“They were donated” she said as she rubbed her face with her palm. She turned the stool around slowly, trying not to use the muscles in her back.

“And whose blood is that?” Dean asked with real worry in his voice, and she looked down at her leg. Oh yeah, she forgot about that.

“That was donated too” she smiled. They didn’t smile back but she could see they both relaxed a bit.

“So you’re alright?” Sam asked, his voice confirming he had calmed down. Her back throbbed so hard she felt it in her feet.

“This princess is fine” she directed at Dean. She really wasn’t angry anymore, she was too sore and exhausted, but couldn’t resist a shot at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You know I didn’t-“

“Don’t worry Dean,” she cut him off and waved her hand, “No harm, no foul”. She detected the smallest smile in his face.

They stood for a few moments while she sat on the stool. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to get down from there very gracefully, if at all, and she savoured the last few moments she had before they sprung into overprotective goons.

“So not to rush you or anything, but if we don’t get this car back my credit card might be taken for a joy ride” Dean said.

Fuck. She made a small movement to get down and pain shot up her back. She groaned and slammed her fist down on the counter.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, not noticing the wince of pain she hid pretty well.

“I’m going to need help getting down” and the wince she gave then was from embarrassment, not pain.

The boys looked at her then between each other, like they were missing something. Then Sam’s face broke into a frown when he realised what she was saying. Dean still looked confused.

“Where are you hurt?” Sam asked, and instantly Dean tensed back up and a bit of fear crept back on his face.

“I hurt my back. It’s not bad; it’s just bruised in an awkward place I think”. It’s probably not as bad as it feels, she’s just being weak.

“Can you walk?” Dean asked, and he didn’t sound happy.

“I got my ass here, didn’t I?”

Sam and Dean moved to either side of her and she lifted her arms up and around their necks. As they moved and her feet were edged down to the ground, all she could feel was pain pain pain and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands balled into fists and it took a lot of energy to keep her mouth shut and not bang her fists down on their shoulders. She turned her head over her shoulder towards Sam’s side so Dean couldn’t see her screwed up face. Sam saw though, but it was the lesser evil.

When her feet touched the ground they ducked down and out of her embrace. Sam moved to stand in front of her.

“Are you sure you can walk? I can, you know..” and he made a hand movement that implied he could carry her.

“Fuck off Sam”.

She took a few steps forward and even though the pain was bad, it wasn’t bad enough to physically show. So she took off at an almost normal pace.

“Come on” she gestured behind her and two sets over footsteps follow.  
 ****

\---------------------------------------------------------

Getting into that piece of shit car was bad, but only required her to half-drop-half-throw herself in the back. Getting out was what really sucked.

She sat on the back seat with her feet on the pavement and her brothers standing in front of her.

“What do you want us to do?”

She tried to stand up but it hurt.

“Just grab my hands and pull me up”.

“There’s probably a better way” Sam mused.

“Just do it Sam”.

Sam grabbed her wrists and counted down.

“Three… Two... One” and on one he pulled. She flexed her arms so most of the exertion came from her biceps and triceps, and not from her shoulder joints and back. As she was moving to a standing position, Dean came around and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped straighten her. She was really grateful for that.

They didn’t say anything when she groaned “fuck” and hovered a hand around her back.

“Can one of you go get ice?” she asked when they walked into the crappy motel room. The brothers exchanged looks, while Sarah rolled her eyes.

“I’ll do it” Sam offered.

As the motel door clicked shut, she walked into the bathroom and left the door open. The blood more or less washed off the lower half of her leg when she stuck it under the running water of the shower. Dean stood at the bathroom door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

“Can I look at your back now?” he asked when she turned the ice cold water off and stepped out of the tub.

She exhaled loudly, just to make sure Dean knew how unnecessary she felt it wall was, and headed over to the crappy queen bed she shared with Sam last night. She put one knee on the bed and kind of dropped her body, face first, so no pressure was on her back. How long does it take to get ice?

“Sure” she mumbled into the pillow.

He tentatively lifted her white singlet half way up her back. There was nothing really noticeable; it was just red in a certain part. Dean pressed his fingers lightly to the reddened area.

“Ow! Dean don’t touch it!” she hissed.

“You’re probably going to get a nasty bruise. Sammy wants to get an x-ray”

“Sam can bite me” she was so exhausted it came out as she exhaled.

Speak of the devil. The door opened and Sam walked in with a bag of ice.

“Hey” he said to the two on the bed as he walked into the bathroom and put the bag in the sink. He took a couple of handfuls of ice and wrapped it in one his shirts.

Dean extended a hand and Sam passed it over the bed. Dean gently placed it on her back and she groaned.

She could _feel_ them exchanging looks behind her back.

“I don’t need an x-ray, Sam”.

“Sarah,” Dean began, and she sensed what was coming, some awful attempt at emotional crap, “look, I-“

“Shut up Dean. You know this was my fault and it’s only a bruise so get over it”. She cut him off abruptly.

Sarah moved her hand into her pocket and pulled out a set of jangling keys. She threw them to the side and they landed on the floor.

“I left it over on the main road out of town, better go get her”.

She heard Dean laugh and pick up the keys before heading out.

“He blames himself for putting you in that situation” Sam confessed a couple of minutes after Dean left. But she already knew he did.

“He blames himself for everything, Sammy”, she was drifting off the sleep now, the lack of adrenaline and alcohol soothing her. “You know it’s my fault though, just make sure he’s alright”.

She couldn’t see, but she knew Sam was doing the whole smiling while shaking his head in disbelief at this family thing that he liked to do. Both siblings fighting for blame was the typical Winchester way.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a snapshot idea that came to me the other morning. I might do a few more. Thanks to anyone who enjoys this!


End file.
